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Entry tags:
[Action | Hot Sauce and Heartburn] [Semi-Open; mainly Ted & Greed]
As fond of Ted was of most things, cars ranked lower on his list. He'd only ever known them in the abstract, as a kind of maturity ritual. You hit 18, you get your license, and if your parents are wealthy and generous enough, there you are. But walking had always afforded him more pleasures of sight and sound; automobiles almost shrank the world. Still, he'd be damned if he lived his entire life without joyriding at least once. It had the word 'joy' in it, right?
So he's in a well-lit lot with an impressive lineup of shiny chrome, not heeding his dwindling funds. The salesmen noticed his curiosity, and hastily went over to part a fool from his money. Ted took most sudden happenings as fate, and likely would've made a grave purchase which might bleed him dry, all for a vehicle that gave little pleasure and less use. Thankfully, fate sent him a psychopathic, condiment-criminal to interrupt the proceedings.
A bungled up, rusted disaster of a car crashed through the wall, sending rubble inward. Ted shielded his eyes, peeking to see the ironic figure. They were bulky, wearing a large hazmat suit with an incredible backpack. They kicked open the crumbling door, wearing flamboyant clothing and making flamboyant gestures. Ted could not make out the sex; he guessed "male", for Hot Sauce swore like a sailor.
"All right you ****'s! This is a robbery! I just broke my piece of **** car so I need a new one, right ******* now!" To make its point, HS whipped out a connecting nozzle, spraying an acid puddle in front that bubbled menacingly.
It was pandemonium. Customers ran screaming; the salesman had long abandoned his mark. The mark in question took cover behind a truck; by now Ted had gotten used to ostentatious chaos. So far, Hot Sauce hadn't seriously hurt anyone, though who knows how long that lucky streak would hold. He just needed to get a hold of his phaser, and this could all go down peacefully. Hopefully.
So he's in a well-lit lot with an impressive lineup of shiny chrome, not heeding his dwindling funds. The salesmen noticed his curiosity, and hastily went over to part a fool from his money. Ted took most sudden happenings as fate, and likely would've made a grave purchase which might bleed him dry, all for a vehicle that gave little pleasure and less use. Thankfully, fate sent him a psychopathic, condiment-criminal to interrupt the proceedings.
A bungled up, rusted disaster of a car crashed through the wall, sending rubble inward. Ted shielded his eyes, peeking to see the ironic figure. They were bulky, wearing a large hazmat suit with an incredible backpack. They kicked open the crumbling door, wearing flamboyant clothing and making flamboyant gestures. Ted could not make out the sex; he guessed "male", for Hot Sauce swore like a sailor.
"All right you ****'s! This is a robbery! I just broke my piece of **** car so I need a new one, right ******* now!" To make its point, HS whipped out a connecting nozzle, spraying an acid puddle in front that bubbled menacingly.
It was pandemonium. Customers ran screaming; the salesman had long abandoned his mark. The mark in question took cover behind a truck; by now Ted had gotten used to ostentatious chaos. So far, Hot Sauce hadn't seriously hurt anyone, though who knows how long that lucky streak would hold. He just needed to get a hold of his phaser, and this could all go down peacefully. Hopefully.